Stone Cold Sober
by PsychedelicCowgirl
Summary: "I love you." Mary had waited a long time to hear Chris say those words. She'd just hoped he wouldn't be intoxicated when he'd said them. As for Chris, he may have been drunk, but that doesn't mean he doesn't remember.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Let me start by saying, no, I'm not starting another story. This one is actually done. There will be another chapter, but it's written; it's just sitting on my computer waiting for some final editing. So, you shouldn't have to wait too long for it. I did want to tell you that this story was inspired by the Brantley Gilbert song, Stone Cold Sober. If you're not familiar with it, go to YouTube and look it up. I think it's worth taking a few minutes of your life to listen to. I'll finish by saying this, I do like the episode Obsession, but I have a long list of issues with it, one of those being the way Chris just seems to forget about Mary with no reasoning ever offered as to why he behaves like a grade A jackass for most of the show. And by the way, neither Chris nor Mary belong to me.**

"I love you."

Mary closed her eyes at the softly spoken words, her breath hitching some as his breath brushed her cheek. She'd waited so long to hear those words and had begun to accept she never would, not from him. Now he was finally telling her what she'd only dreamed of hearing, but they didn't bring the pleasure she always thought they would. They left her feeling cheated. The breath brushing her cheek reeked of too much whiskey for the proclamation of love to make her feel anything but a deep sadness.

Mary forced herself to push away. He was too drunk to realize what he was saying. It wasn't fair to either one of them to let him continue, tempting as it was. "You need to be in bed, Chris."

He looked at her, his eyes cold, and smiled. "You comin' with me?"

In his drunken state the smile was more of a leer. She'd seen that look before, when he'd first come to Four Corners. He'd worn it too often then, and it had always filled her with disgust. Even then she had seen something in him that had told her he was better than he acted. She'd hated seeing him waste his life like that, drowning himself in alcohol. Hated to see that he seemed to care so little for his life. Seeing him wear that look now was a little different. Oh, she still hated it, but it wasn't disgust that filled her now, it was pity.

She could pity him now because she'd seen firsthand what kind of man Chris Larabee really was. She'd seen the man she was sure he'd been before suffering his terrible loss. She'd seen the man who had a deep capacity for love, the man who would do anything for the downtrodden or those he really cared about. She'd seen the Chris who had undoubtedly been a devoted husband and loving father. She had watched as he'd risen from the ashes of his heartbreak, and become that man again. She'd also watched over the last several weeks as he'd slowly reverted back to the man who had first wondered into town, a man who had to drink just to make it through the day. And it was a heartbreaking thing to see.

"No," she said softly in response to his earlier question.

A look of hurt flashed in his eyes. "I don't wanna be alone."

She smiled sadly, putting the smallest of distances between them. "I don't think you'll know the difference."

His reply was a simple "no", but Mary wasn't sure if that was an affirmation of or a contradiction to her statement.

He took an unsteady step towards her and leaned in for a kiss. "It's cold tonight."

She stepped back again. "Chris, please." She was trying hard not to think about all the times in the past she had wondered what it would feel like to fall asleep in his arms, to wake up beside him; to be a lover and not a friend. He was offering her that now, the chance to find out the answer to those questions, but Mary wouldn't accept. She had her pride and she wouldn't settle for a cheap imitation of what she'd spent months hoping for.

Chris was tenacious always, but being drunk seemed to make him especially persistent. He stepped forward closing the distance she'd put between them. "I love you, Mary."

He doesn't know what he's saying, she reminded herself sternly. He would never have persisted like this if he were sober. He would never have tried this if he were sober. Mary knew all that was true, but even so, when he leaned in again, she allowed the kiss. She shouldn't have let it happen, but she couldn't help herself; she'd wanted it for too long. Even if it wasn't given in the spirit she'd wished for, it was better than nothing. Wasn't it?

She was expecting him to be rough, perhaps even desperate given his state, but the kiss was surprisingly tender. Her eyes drifted shut, relishing the contact. He was even better than she'd imagined, and she didn't stop him when he deepened the kiss. Nor did she stop herself from wrapping her arms around his neck. It was wrong for her to let herself get carried away, but she couldn't help it.

Mary had loved her husband, and after she'd lost him she wasn't sure another man would ever turn her head, until Chris Larabee had stepped into her life. Oh, she'd been aloof, maybe even snobbish, at first, and there was no doubt sparks had flown between them when they'd first met. Still, it hadn't taken her long to see past the stoic, gruff, "bad element" persona he projected to the man he really was. It was the debacle with Wickes that had changed things. That was the first time she recalled really seeing and understanding who Chris Larabee was. He'd risked a lot to help Lydia and the other girls when they'd come to town, and he'd risked even more to help her. It was shortly after her rescue that she remembered looking at him, or any man since Stephan, and really wanting to be made to feel like a woman again. Right now, that's precisely what Chris was doing, and it was just as wonderful as she'd always dreamed it would be.

It had been a long time since she'd really felt like a desirable woman. When she'd first lost Stephen, she'd had to be so strong, even hard at times, just to survive. She hadn't been able to afford to let herself feel like a woman, not when every day was a fight. Not that there hadn't been men, she had been wined and dined a few times by men like Marshal Brice and Governor Hopewell, but those times had so often felt like business meetings. Then there had been Gerard. Gerard certainly hadn't made her feel like a business associate, and she believed he really did love her, but even he hadn't awakened the feelings that being in Chris' arms did. She couldn't yet say she loved Chris, but she didn't think it would take much to get to that point.

Mary's mind was feverishly processing all these thoughts as she allowed Chris to carry her further away from good sense. She was no longer thinking about a drunken Chris, mumbling things he wouldn't think of saying sober, she was only thinking of the real Chris Larabee, a hard but fair and honorable man, and how good it felt to be in his arms. Then Chris shifted some and exhaled slightly, and the scent of the alcohol on his breath hit her anew. Reality came crashing down around her. Chris was drunk. He didn't mean the words he had just spoken. Even if he meant them now, he wouldn't mean them in the light of day, if he even remembered saying them. Her fantasy had been just that, a fantasy. Reluctantly, she pulled away.

Chris briefly tried to reclaim her lips, but when she took a step back he didn't fight her. He just stared at her with those beautiful green eyes of his. They weren't hard and icy anymore, there was nothing but hurt in them now. "Mary," he said softly. He reached for her hand, stopping when she pulled back, the hurt in his eyes growing. "Please."

Mary felt a stab of guilt knowing that she was adding to his pain, but she refused to waver. She had her pride after all. If she allowed things to keep going the way they were, there was a good possibility she would simply give in to Chris, and the possibly that she would hate herself for doing it was just as good. As much as she thought she could enjoy loving Chris that way, she couldn't do it like this. He was so drunk now it was doubtful he'd remember any of this in the morning, and Mary wouldn't do that. She deserved more than a drunken fit of loneliness and passion.

She cleared her throat, choosing to ignore his earlier plea, and the ache in her own heart. She had never dreamed things would have taken this turn. If she had she never would have taken charge of him when she'd seen Ezra getting Chris back to his room tonight. She was now realizing that trying to help had likely been a horrible mistake on her part, and she needed to take control of the situation again.

"I told Ezra I'd take care of you tonight," she said using her newspaper editor voice. It was a tone she felt carried more authority, and to some men made her less attractive as a female. Chris had never been one of them. "You need to be in bed; to sleep some of that off."

Chris looked down for a moment and when he met her eyes, his look had changed again. He now looked utterly defeated. It was unsettling to see that expression on the normally strong and stoic Chris. He reached for her hand again, and this time, she didn't pull back, which encouraged him to close the distance between them once more. "I'm sorry, Mary. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Mary felt her heart crack at those words, but she felt hopeful too. She'd been so sure Chris reciprocated the feelings she had for him, and before that awful Gains woman had come to town she had felt like he was very close to acting upon them. Then he'd just been gone, and when he'd come back, everything had changed. She'd been waiting for weeks for Chris to talk to her, to explain things to her; this was the closest he'd come to doing either of those things. It was rather sad he had to be thoroughly intoxicated to do it, but it gave her some hope that maybe things could be mended between them. "I know you didn't. You're not that kind of man."

Chris shook his head some. "You're too good. She was safe."

Mary wasn't sure what Chris meant but she wasn't surprised. She was amazed Chris was still standing, much less that he was talking, words slightly slurred but clear enough. She had the feeling he was nearing the end of his rope, however, and he'd soon be in the bed whether he wanted to be or not.

"It was easy," Chris mumbled. "Safe, she was safe. She was . . . sick." He met Mary's eyes again and the look of defeat was gone to be replaced by anger. "Why? Why did she do it? She killed my wife. She took my boy from me. Why!?" Chris' voice had risen steadily, the last question being yelled, but as quickly as the anger had come, it faded. "Why?" he asked again, in little more than a whisper, his gaze plaintive. "I don't understand."

Tears were now standing in his eyes and for a moment, she panicked. Chris would be mortified if he cried in front of her. If he were sober he would be mortified, she realized. As it was she hoped he would forget this just as he would likely forget his declaration of love.

She felt her own eyes well up. "I don't know, Chris." One of her tears escaped and ran down her cheek. "I don't understand either."

Chris stepped in even closer and wiped it away. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mary. I didn't mean for it to happen that way. I love you."

Mary closed her eyes at the unexpected jolt of pain those words brought. She still didn't trust that Chris really knew what he was saying. "Please, stop." He did stop but Mary didn't know if it was because she had asked him to, or because the alcohol was finally starting to catch up with him.

Taking a deep breath, Mary forced a smile. "Let's go to bed," she said as brightly as she could manage.

"Me," Chris mumbled as he turned towards his bed. "You won't stay."

"I can't."

Chris warily sank on the bed and lay down. "I love you, Mary. I do. Was a fool not to see it."

Mary let her smile drop, it was too painful to keep it in place. The next time she saw Ezra getting Chris home, she was going to mind her own business and leave the southerner to it. Regardless of the problems the ex-conman and his leader were having. "Just sleep, Chris," she said as she pulled a blanket over him. She needed to get out and soon. She moved to leave and Chris grabbed her hand.

"Stay?" he asked quietly.

There was desperation in his eyes again, and Mary might have been tempted if she hadn't already resolved in her mind what she had to do. She still didn't understand what had happened between them, or rather what had happened to keep something from happening between them. Or what had happened between Chris and that Gains woman. Until she did understand, she couldn't pursue anything between them. Until Chris talked to her, sober, things would have to stay the way they were. "I can't."

She leaned over and kissed him gently. "Goodbye, Chris." With that, she blew out the lamp and left the man's room.

Goodbye she had said. Not good night, goodbye, and she'd meant it. She couldn't continue like this, waiting for Chris. If he had something to say, he was going to have to come out and say it, until he did, she was washing her hands of Chris Larabee.

It was a good plan, but even as she explained it to herself, Mary knew she couldn't follow through with it. She couldn't forget him, couldn't drive him out of her mind or her heart. That become apparent when she lay down in her own empty bed, and Chris was the first thing on her mind. Her bed was cold too, and once more she found herself wondering what it would feel like to have his arms around her. What it would be like to become his lover. Then she thought about a slurred, drunken declaration of love, and she cried herself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chris woke up alone and hungover in a room that was far too bright. Even with the curtains pulled, too much sunlight filtered in. Groaning, Chris shut his eyes and turned his face towards his pillow doing his best to block out the offensive daylight. For now, he had no desire to do anything that didn't involve lying in bed, so that's exactly what he did, lie in bed and feel more miserable than he had in a while. Given the way the last several weeks had gone, that was really saying something.

It wasn't the hangover that made this morning miserable. It wasn't helping any, but he'd had enough of them in his life to know how to deal with them. Over the last few weeks he'd almost become an expert at them. Sadly, he'd grown accustomed - as accustomed as it was possible to get - to waking up with an aching head, mouth full of cotton, eyes full of grit, and a stomach empty as all get out. To some degree, he'd even gotten used to making a jackass out of himself, just not in front of Mary. But if his memories of last night were anywhere near clear, that's exactly what he'd done.

The pounding in his head and the general feeling of unwellness didn't distract from what he remembered about last night. The memories of Mary being in his room, of holding her and telling her things he'd never told her before. He'd admit he'd thought about similar scenarios before, of getting her alone and finally being able to put his feelings into words, but his fantasies had never played out the way last night had. Oh, he'd been alone with her, and he'd tried to tell her something, but unfortunately all that had happened after he'd had too much to drink, and she had literally helped him to his room. The ending certainly hadn't gone the way he'd always imagined it would. Mary hadn't come to him and shared his bed like she had in his mind, instead, she'd put him to bed like a child, given him one of the most chaste kisses he'd ever received, and then she'd left him.

There was a distance between him a Mary now; their interaction since he'd come back from Ella's was too forced, almost too polite. Sort of like things had been the first couple of months they'd known each other, back before the trouble with Wickes. For Chris it had been the mess with the fancy man that had provided the turning point in his relationship with Mary. Before then he'd seen her as something of a snobbish ice queen, after her kidnapping he'd began to see what a strong, independent woman she actually was. Since that ordeal they'd slowly gotten closer, and then Ella had come along. Now there was a gap between them that seemed to grow every day, and since that gap had formed Chris had found out just how much he really did care about her. He had no idea how Mary now felt, but he hated the distance between them. What he hated the most, though, was the fact that any distance between them was his fault.

When he'd first gotten home from the hellhole Ella's ranch had quickly become for him, Chris had avoided Mary. He'd been physically wounded and emotionally shattered; too confused and broken to try and sort out what his relationship with Mary was or attempt to explain anything to her. He'd been ashamed too, ashamed of his actions with both Ella and his fellow peacekeepers since leaving town. Conduct unbecoming he thought he remembered hearing Ezra mumble during one of his many drunken nights since their return. It seemed his relationship with everyone was off-kilter since Ella had walked back into his world, but the one that bothered him the most was Mary. She'd been concerned when he'd left town, and she probably should have been the first person he'd tried to make amends with, but he'd taken the coward's way out and pushed Mary to the bottom of the list of people to make up with.

He still wasn't sure of just how much Mary knew about what had gone on at Ella's ranch. He knew Mary was aware that Ella was the killer he'd spent three years looking for, and he suspected that she knew their reunion had been more familiar than just a couple of old friends that hadn't seen each other in several years. What he didn't know was if anyone had ever told her about the way his and Ella's relationship had evolved during his time out at her place, or if anyone had told her of his intentions to remain at the ranch indefinitely. He hoped the others hadn't revealed too many of the nitty gritty details, but whether she knew or not, Chris knew all about it, and yes, he'd been ashamed of what he'd done. He knew he needed to tell her everything, and he'd almost worked up the guts to do just that, and then last night had happened.

He'd been afraid since that fateful day out on the boardwalk when Mary had delivered Ella's letter to him that things between them would never be what they had once been. When he'd started back to drinking, he'd been almost sure of it. Mary didn't approve of heavy drinking, his or anyone else's, and he'd been certain she would wash her hands of him when that had started again. But last night when she'd offered to help him back to his room, Chris had felt hopeful. Encouraged by her willingness to help and emboldened by alcohol, he'd finally confessed his love. For all the good it had done. Another groan – one that had nothing to do with his hangover – left Chris; what a sight he must have been last night. He was sure his words had been slurred and his breath had doubtless smelled of whiskey, and while he hadn't exactly needed Mary to keep him upright, leaning on her had definitely made standing easier. No wonder she had left.

The light didn't seem as bright anymore so Chris rolled over on his back and tried to remember everything about last night that he could. There were plenty of hazy moments, but he did remember the first time he'd mumbled "I love you," he also remembered Mary pushing away. Not that he blamed her for putting the space between them. She'd done what any woman in her right mind would have done. But then he offered his hand and she had come back, willingly. She'd stepped right into his embrace, and it had felt so right for her to be there; the first thing that had really felt right in ages. Then she'd pushed away again, and it had hurt. It had kind of felt like that time when he was a kid and he'd gotten kicked in the side by that colt his pa had brought home. It had kind of felt like it had when Mary had told him about Gerard's proposal.

He let his mind drift back to those days on the wagon train with Mary. Chris had known then that what he felt for Mary was something besides friendship, and he'd had the impression for a while that Mary might have felt the same way. Having Gerard come onto the scene had thrown him off balance, to say the least. He really hadn't been surprised to learn of the man's interest in Mary, it was understandable, what had been a surprise was that Mary didn't seem to be against those feelings, nor did she seem eager to discourage them. The worst part had been that the man was likable and decent enough that Chris hadn't felt right about trying to persuade Mary to tell him to get lost. He hadn't felt he could do that when he wasn't yet sure he was ready to offer her and Billy the same thing Gerard was, or at least the hope that one day he would be ready to offer it. Chris had spent a lot of those nights trying to reconcile himself to the fact that he had lost Mary, then she had come and for all intents and purposes asked him exactly what she should do.

He still vividly remembered that day, and all the thoughts and feelings he'd had when she'd told him she'd decided to accept the proposal. Even then he hadn't felt he had a right to tell her not to get married. So, he'd tried to put on a good face and told himself that it didn't matter, as long as Mary was happy. That rationale was what had finally led him to ask her if she loved Gerard, and he'd been certain he would never forget the relief he'd felt when she hadn't been able to answer him. Except he had forgotten. As soon as they were home and the threat of another man was gone he had let himself fall right back into their comfortable routine; taking for granted that she would be there when he finally got his feelings sorted out and was ready to commit to something.

Commitment was the real problem for him. The truth was he missed having a home and a family, but learning to live without Sarah and Adam had been the single hardest thing he'd ever done. He never wanted to face something like that again, and he was hesitant to do anything that might make that a possibility. If he pursued Mary that's precisely what he would be doing. Mary was a lady; acting on what he was feeling would mean committing to her, more than likely making her a wife again. She wouldn't settle for less, and he would never try to get her to. But last night he had asked that of her. At least twice that he remembered, he'd asked Mary to come to bed with him and he'd been profoundly disappointed when she'd said no. But again, what had he thought she would do? Throw away all her pride and give him that kind of company just because he'd said please? Sure he'd been drunk, but that didn't make it sound any better. Actually, it made it all sound worse.

Ella came to mind again, as much as he hated any thought of her. His fear of commitment, of opening himself back up to the worst pain he'd ever experienced, was the biggest reason he'd found it so easy to stay with Ella. He didn't love Ella; he really never had, even in his younger days. At least he didn't love her the way he'd loved Sarah or the way he thought he could love Mary, but that was what made her safe. Ella hadn't asked much of him; she'd just asked him to stay. She'd been willing to give him the appearance of having a woman by his side, and a place to call his own. She'd been willing to keep him warm at night and satisfy his physical wants without asking for a commitment. She had offered him a shadow of what he really wanted, but she had offered it at little to no cost. That's what he'd thought anyway. In actuality, it had cost him; dearly. It had cost him Mary's trust, his friend's trust; it had almost cost him his life and his sanity. What he'd thought was coming so cheap was really what had cost him his family to start with.

That thought made his stomach roll and Chris sat up abruptly ignoring what the sudden movement did to his head. Bile rose in his throat but the feeling quickly subsided, and for a long moment Chris sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, breathing slowly through his mouth. Almost three mouths had passed since that awful morning he'd learned the truth about Ella, and it still seemed surreal. Part of him couldn't believe he'd actually done what he had. He'd turned his back on everything he'd claimed was important to him, everything he'd spent nearly two years fighting for, for an old flame he'd left behind a lifetime ago. The old flame, it turned out, who was the sick, obsessive, murderess who'd taken his world away from him.

He was an idiot. A jackass who didn't deserve the second chance his friends were giving him. But deserving of it or not, he was grateful for it. He could only hope and pray that Mary would be as forgiving. Before she could forgive, however, or perhaps tell him she never wanted to see him again, he would have to talk to her, really talk to her. Thoughts of last night came back to him, and his stomach started to feel uneasy again. He'd told her he loved her.

Last night he'd let the whiskey get the best of him. He'd let it take control and do all the talking, and he'd learned long ago that when he let that happen, he usually ended up saying too much, things he usually regretted once the sun came up and his head was clear. Last night was different. He remembered the way she had fit into his arms and the way she had momentarily returned his kiss. Maybe he wouldn't have told Mary the things he had if he'd been sober, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that those words had been driven by more than whiskey.

He'd been sitting here waiting for the regret to come and so far, it hadn't. There was no regret, just him, alone with a bone-deep aching need to feel Mary with him again. He still couldn't honestly say he was ready for marriage again, ready to be her husband and Billy's father, but he did know he wanted, no needed, her here again. He needed to hold her, needed to try and explain things to her; needed her to understand what he had done and why. He needed to tell her again that he loved her. Whiskey wasn't driving his words or his thoughts this morning, and he still felt the need to say them. He wanted to tell Mary he loved her. He wanted to tell her now, when he was stone cold sober.

 **A/N: I said this was going to be the end, but who think Chris and Mary need one more chapter? And t** hanks to MaverickLover2 for proofing for me, but I would like to add that any mistakes are mine as I did some tweaking after she sent me the corrected copy earlier today


	3. Chapter 3

It was well after noon by the time Chris got out of bed and tried to make himself presentable. The compulsion he felt to talk to Mary hadn't ebbed any since he'd woken up and he'd finally made the decision to do just that. There was some apprehension concerning how she would respond to him after last night, but he had to talk to her. Whatever her reaction, he had to tell her the truth. If he was lucky she'd be as forgiving as his friends. If not, well, at least he would know.

Chris took extra care washing and shaving. He was determined that today Mary would see him looking as straight and sober as possible. His eyes were bloodshot, but as long as he looked like he cared about the other aspects of his appearance, maybe they wouldn't stand out too much. By the time he had dressed and actually screwed up enough courage to leave the boarding house, there wasn't much traffic on the boardwalk. It was odd given the time of the afternoon, but it made the short walk to the Clarion uneventful, for which Chris was grateful. At this moment, Mary was the only person he had any interest in seeing. And he needed to do that before he lost his nerve and was tempted to seek out the bottom of another bottle.

When he got to the newspaper office he reached to open the door and paused, wondering if he should knock. It was a place of business and no one else would knock, but after last night simply walking in almost felt like an intrusion. But standing outside knocking on the door of an open business was ridiculous. Taking a deep breath he finally turned the knob, rapping on the door as he opened it.

"Just a minute," Mary called out from the back.

As bad as he felt he couldn't help but smile. Her voice could do that to him. He heard her footsteps on the wooden floor as she started to come up from the back.

"How can I help . . . ." Mary stopped short, both her steps and her words when she saw him. "Chris."

"Mary." Chris took off his hat. "Is Billy here?"

"No, he's at the Potter's. Do you need him?"

Chris shook his head, glad that at least one thing was going in his favor. He loved the kid, but he'd rather the boy not be around for this. "No, I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"

For a moment, she looked as though she would refuse but finally nodded. "Of course." Despite the affirmation, she went over to her desk and began straightening things up. Chris waited for her to finish, but after a couple of minutes he realized hat wasn't going happen; she was using the loose papers as an excuse to not look at him.

"Mary?"

Mary continued her idle motions. "Yes?"

"Mary, would you stop that and look at me?"

She stopped but didn't turn. Chris sighed, after what he'd done maybe that was the best he could hope for. She was willing to listen if nothing else. "About last night . . . ."

Mary whirled around. "It's fine. You don't have to explain anything."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. You were drunk and I . . . . It . . . it's fine."

"No, it's not."

Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please, Chris. Let's forget it. The sooner we do the better off we'll be."

She tried to walk away and Chris held onto her arm. "I don't want to forget it. Do you?" He realized he was asking a dangerous question. What would he do if she said yes? He couldn't forget how right it had felt to hold her, and he wasn't sure he could continue to live here, with her so close, knowing she didn't feel . . . something.

Mary didn't answer but her stance relaxed.

Chris released her arm and spoke again. "It shouldn't have happened that way. I'm sorry."

Mary finally faced him. "It's alright, Chris. Apology accepted."

"I'd like to try to explain some things if you'll let me."

Again he sensed her hesitation, but she nodded. "Alright. Just give me a few minutes to close up."

Chris nodded and quietly waited while Mary put a few things away and locked the front door. "Would you like to go upstairs and have some coffee?" she asked as she hung her apron up.

"Sounds good."

The trek up to the apartment was made in silence and once they arrived Mary immediately set about the task of putting the coffee on. Chris had the feeling the coffee was another stalling technique, but he wasn't going to hold it against her. What was coming was going to be awkward, there was no way around it.

While Mary was occupied, Chris decided to take advantage of the moments he had and tried to think of what he was going to say, and how he was going to say it. Should he expound on what had happened last night? Mary had said she accepted his apology; maybe he should let it go at that. After all, what else was there to say, sorry I made drunken advances and repeatedly asked you to sleep with me? Perhaps things were better left where they were.

He didn't have a lot of time to sort through things before Mary brought a cup of coffee over and handed it to him with a weak smile. It wasn't the first cup of coffee they had shared, but Chris couldn't help but wonder if it was going to be the last.

"Should we sit down?" she asked indicating the settee in the sitting area of the room.

Chris nodded and followed her over, sitting only once she had. For a minute neither spoke, neither seemed all that interested in coffee either. Mary finally cleared her throat. "There was something you wanted to talk about?"

Sighing Chris set his coffee down. "Yeah." Leaning forward he propped his elbows on his knees, unsure of how to begin.

"And?"

Chris smiled slightly at the tone of her voice. Awkward of not, it sounded like she was ready to get started. Or perhaps she was in a hurry to get it over with. Either way, he needed to say something. He took a deep breath. "I was drunk last night, Mary. I know that's not really a good excuse, but believe me, what I said . . . it wouldn't have happened if I'd been sober."

"I know," Mary replied softly.

Chris met her eyes. "Sorry doesn't seem like much when it comes to makin' up for it, but I am sorry."

A smile even weaker than before came to Mary's face. "You said that. And I said I accepted."

"I know. Just wanted to do it right."

"You did fine the first time. You're forgiven."

"Thank you," Chris said, relieved to have that done, but still apprehensive about what was to come. "I hope you still feel that way after the rest of the story." He'd made his decision only now. If he really wanted to tell Mary he loved her and have even a small chance of it being accepted, he needed to tell her everything. Everything.

"The rest of the story?" Mary now looked confused. "What's rest of the story?"

"Ella," he said bitterly, hating to even say her name.

"The woman who . . . ."

"Yeah. When I was younger we . . . well, we were more than friends. I was young, dumb, and reckless back then and she didn't do much to rein me in. Actually, she encouraged it." He paused there giving Mary the chance to say something; when she didn't he went on.

"We were together almost two years, and lookin' back I don't know how we survived most of it. I wasn't raised to act the way I did durin' most of that time, and one day I finally started to wise up. I started to realize I was gonna get myself killed if somethin' didn't change. I also noticed something about being with her felt . . . wrong. I decided it'd be best if we went our separate ways. I talked to her about it and she agreed."

Chris leaned forward again, thinking about that day. Ella had agreed. She hadn't been happy about it, but she hadn't fought him, hadn't begged; hadn't cried. She'd seemed more disappointed than anything. She certainly hadn't acted in a way that would have ever made him believe she was obsessed with him, or that she was capable of doing what she had done. "I left the next day and that was the last time I saw her until she came to town." That was the last time he had seen her, but he was now wondering if that had been the last time she had seen him? Had she kept track of him all those years? Maybe she never really had let him ride away. The thought she could have been that possessive, that she would have kept up with him for more than a decade put a knot in his stomach and for a second, he felt queasy.

"When she came to town, I left to help an old friend." He straightened and looked at Mary again. "That's all. Anything else . . . I never dreamed it would happen."

"You didn't know, Chris. You can't blame yourself. I certainly wouldn't have thought she was capable of that."

There was sympathy in Mary's eyes as she spoke. Chris knew she was referring to the murders, but that wasn't what Chris had been talking about. He wondered how long the sympathy would last when she found out how quickly Ella had gone from old friend to lover. "How much has Buck told you?" he asked. He knew his oldest friend had talked to Mary a few times since they had come back.

"He told me Miss Gaines was the one you'd been looking for. And he's told me some of what happened the morning you were shot."

There was a gleam of hurt in her eyes and Chris' heart sank when he saw it. She did know about him and Ella, or at least she suspected something. Doubtless he had Buck and his big mouth to thank for that. There was a time he would have gotten mad at Buck for running his mouth like that, but at this moment, Chris couldn't blame him. This mess hadn't been easy for Buck either, and Buck was the kind that liked to talk about his problems. Chris had always blamed the trait on Buck being raised with so many women. Whatever the reason, once Buck got started, he didn't always stop easily, and Lord knew Chris hadn't been in any shape to listen to him lately. Maybe he should be grateful he wasn't having to reveal all this to Mary for the first time.

"I was thinkin' about quittin', about stayin' with her." He'd done more than think about it and admitting it to Mary now brought that familiar feeling of shame back.

The answer was barely above a whisper. "I know."

Chris watched the woman he claimed to love, the woman he had hurt. Her eyes were downcast, intently studying her hands while she picked at one of her nails. He still didn't fully understand how Ella had gotten him to turn against everyone who really cared about him. She had a special talent he supposed. He didn't deserve any of the understanding he'd been shown, especially by Mary, but he was going to ask for a little more anyway. He was going to finish this. "Mary, I've got somethin' to say and I just want you to listen. When I'm done, if you never want to talk to me again, I'll understand. But please listen."

"Chris . . . ."

"Please."

She lifted her eyes. "Alright."

"I went with Ella because she was an old friend and I thought she needed help. I didn't plan on it becomin' anything else."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Chris. You're a grown man; you can keep company with whoever you want." The hurt was still in her eyes, but her chin had regained that proud tilt. It was a look that brought him both pleasure and pain. She was always so strong, and always so much of a woman; too good a woman for him.

"Yes, I do," he insisted. "And I'm gonna to do my best to give you one. I miss my wife, I miss my son; I miss being married. But the thought of doing it again, of losing all that again, it scares me to death. I don't love her, Mary. I didn't love her; that made her safe. Losing Sarah and Adam hurt so bad because . . . because I did love them. I didn't have to worry about that with Ella. I could pretend that I loved her and feel like I had a woman, without riskin' all that again. I shouldn't have done it. It was selfish and I hurt a lot of people. People I should have thought more of; people I love."

Mary had been looking him in the eye, but at that last comment, she drew in a sharp breath and jerked her head around.

"Mary," he said softly cupping her cheek and turning her face towards him again. "Last night I said a lot of things I shouldn't have, but that wasn't one of them. I do love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to get it out."

Mary began to blink back tears. When she tried to look away Chris let her. He didn't know whether her silence was good or bad or how she would look at him after this, but he had one more thing to say. "I was a coward, and because of that, I hurt you. Sorry don't count for much, but there's nothin' else I can say. Like I said if you never what to see me again, I understand. I don't deserve another chance, but I had to tell you the truth. I love you."

Mary was now leaning forward, very much like he had been earlier. Her eyes were closed and she had yet to say a word. Chris took that as his cue to leave. He'd done what he came to do; there was no sense in hanging around any longer. If Mary was going to forgive him she would, if not, well, there certainly wasn't a reason for him to be here. He walked to the door, trying not to be too disappointed. He'd put her through a lot the last twenty-four hours; the last couple of months really. If she needed some time he should be willing to give it to her. If she simply wanted him to go he should be willing to do that too.

He was almost to the door when she stopped him. "Chris."

He paused, his heart skipping a beat. This was either good, or she'd finally collected herself enough to tell him off. He slowly faced her.

Mary was standing, her eyes shining with tears. "Wait."

 **A/N: There's still one more coming. I thought Mary deseverd have own chapter when she's gives Chris her response.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chris had been the last person Mary expected to see today when she'd heard the door to the Clarion open. She'd honestly thought after what happened last night Chris would go back to avoiding her. It hadn't even crossed her mind that he would show up to apologize for his behavior. She certainly hadn't dreamed he would repeat anything from last night, but he had. Chris Larabee had just told her he loved her. He wasn't in a drunken stupor, and he wasn't caught up in the throes of passion. He was sober, solemn, and sounded completely sincere. And Mary had no idea how to respond.

Mary blinked the tears from her eyes as she studied the man in front of her. She tried to put a name on the expression he wore. It wasn't defeat; resignation maybe. Did he honestly believe she wouldn't want to talk to him again? That she could simply let him walk out of her life? She had decided last night that wasn't possible. However, she didn't think she was ready to throw her arms around him and tell him all was forgiven, either. As much as she'd wanted to hear Chris tell her exactly what he just had, she couldn't forget about the last few months. She couldn't forget that he'd left and gone to another woman.

She'd told Chris he didn't owe her an explanation regarding Ella, and she'd spent a lot of time convincing herself that was true. She and Chris had never had any kind of understanding. No promises had ever been made and they hadn't even openly confessed they felt anything for one another. He did have the right to be with anyone he wanted without having to justify himself to her. Even so, she hadn't liked it when he'd left, she'd felt something about the situation wasn't right, and when she'd found out a little about what had happened, it hurt. Truth be told, it still hurt, but being hurt, maybe even a little angry, didn't mean she was ready to push Chris out of her life forever. He needed to know that too, especially since he was standing at her door looking so lost and alone.

"You don't have to leave," she told him closing the distance between them.

He remained silent but some of the uncertainty left his eyes as she stepped towards him.

By the time she was in front of him Chris still hadn't said a word and Mary decided if they were going to get anywhere, she was going to have to continue. "Thank you," she said. "For telling me about . . . everything." She had moved in closer than she had originally intended to, but she'd found it hard to stop herself while she was staring into those intense green eyes of his.

"After what I did last night, you deserved to know everything." Chris sighed. "Mary, when I left I planned on comin' back."

"I know. Buck explained some things."

"Buck's got a big mouth," he mumbled.

Mary smiled slightly. She could tell he wasn't really upset with Buck. The smile faded as she thought about some of the things Buck had told her. Mary was certain that woman had changed all of them in some way, even if it was indirectly. "It wasn't easy for anyone was it?"

"I'd change it if I could."

That deep sadness was back in his eyes and Mary's heart twisted at the sight. Yes, she was hurt, and there was even a part of her that was mad, but she knew Chris had to be hurting too. She didn't approve of the way he'd been dealing with that pain, but she understood why he'd been doing it. She remembered all too well how betrayed she had felt when she'd found out Stephen's killer had been living in town, so close to her, for all those months. She couldn't begin to imagine how betrayed Chris felt, being as close to Ella as he'd been. He didn't have the satisfaction of knowing Ella would pay for her crimes.

The longer she stood there, the more confused she became. She still didn't know how to respond to Chris. She wanted to believe everything he'd told her, but there was still a lingering doubt that she could trust him. But oh, how she wished she could. She wished it just as much as she wished she could make all that pain in his eyes disappear. "Chris," she said reaching up and softly touching his cheek.

Chris' eyes locked with hers and something, Mary wasn't sure what, passed between them. Chris closed what little distance remained between them and kissed her. Kissed her long and good much as he had last night, except there was no alcohol fueling this one, and Mary responded to him. Her arms went around his neck and she returned the kiss, putting just as much effort into it as Chris was. She wanted this, she wanted him, she had for a long time now, and she wanted this to last.

They broke apart only when Chris' need for air made him, and even then he didn't release her. He stood there, his forehead on hers, panting slightly, and Mary relished the contact, hardly believing this was real. She loved Chris. She could admit that now. There were some things they needed to work through, but as long as they loved each other they could do it. As long as Chris was willing to stand by her and Billy, they could work everything out.

Mary stiffened; her heart skipping a beat when she thought of her son. Chris noticed the difference in her posture and peered down at her. "Mary?"

Mary stepped out of his embrace. Berating herself for letting Chris sweep her away from her good sense again and dismayed that she was only now thinking of Billy. "I'm sorry, Chris. I shouldn't have done that." She loved the man, but she wasn't ready for this, not yet. There was still too much she was unsure of. She forced herself to meet his eyes and when she did she saw the hurt in them. No, it wasn't hurt, it was pain. Pain far more severe than she'd seen last night. And this time, she had put it there.

She was about to apologize again when he smiled slightly, hiding some of the intensity. "It's all right. I understand." He took a step back. "Goodbye, Mary."

"No." She grabbed his arm this time. She wasn't letting him walk away until he knew exactly what she was thinking. If only she could sort it out. "I don't . . . I . . . I need . . . time. I just need some time."

"Time?"

Mary nodded. "I'm . . . I don't think I'm ready for this, Chris. Not yet."

Chris dropped his eyes for a moment, and when he looked back up that flicker of pain had returned. "Would you have been ready a few months ago?"

"Are you ready for this?" Mary didn't intend for the question to sound like an accusation, but she knew it did. She wasn't trying to add to Chris' guilt, but he needed to understand where she stood, too. He was claiming to love her, yet he'd been willing to stay with Ella in spite of that. Maybe they hadn't had an understanding, but it seemed he'd put her away awfully easily for someone he professed to love. She could see where Chris was coming from in regards to Ella being "safe", but that didn't change that he'd left her without a word of warning or a goodbye.

"I'm willing to try," Chris replied.

"I don't know if that's good enough." Knowing how that must have sounded, she rushed to explain her meaning. "What I mean is this isn't about just me, Chris. I have to think of Billy too." Billy was confused already; Mary didn't want to add to that confusion by formally being courted by Chris, at least not yet.

Billy had no idea of what had really gone on at Ella's ranch. Mary told him Chris had left to help a friend, and as far as she was concerned Billy would continue to think that. The boy had asked questions while Chris was gone, concerned by the man's absence. When Chris had come home with a hole in his side that concern had grown, but Mary managed to answer her son's questions without too much trouble. Then Chris started drinking again. The questions Billy now had as to why Chris didn't act the way he always had, or why his mother wasn't as keen on him spending time with the man he idolized as she had once been, were harder to answer.

Mary sighed. She didn't doubt Chris loved Billy, and she was believing more and more that he really loved her, but the question was, did he love them enough? "He thinks the world of you already, Chris, and he's been confused for the last several weeks. What happens if we start something and you get closer, and then you decide to leave again?"

"I ain't plannin' on leavin' here."

Mary smiled sadly. "That's the problem. You didn't plan it when you left with Miss Gains either, but you were going to stay with her." She didn't want to say it, she hated saying it, but Billy's well-being was of paramount importance. She couldn't let Chris get that close to them, let Billy believe Chris was a permanent part of their lives, only to have to pick up the pieces if Chris were to decide he couldn't be what they needed him to be. She was willing to risk that for herself, but not her son.

Chris sighed. "I didn't mean for that to happen, Mary. I know I hurt you but you have to understand, I never wanted it to be like that. I never wanted this to happen."

"But it did happen. You said she was easy, safe. I can't promise we'll be easy or safe. What if you get tired? What if you decide we're not worth the trouble . . . "

"Mary . . . ."

"I can't do that to him. I can't let you in until I know you're ready for us." Mary found she had to blink the tears from her eyes once more. "I love you too, Chris, and I'll forgive you. But I can't trust you right now."

Chris looked miserable but nodded. "Alright."

"I'm sorry, Chris. I don't want to do it this way, but I need time. Can you give me that? Can you give me time to . . . figure everything out?"

Chris cocked his head a little. The sadness was still in his eyes, but a ghost of a smile found its way to his lips. "Time for me to prove I'm worth my salt?"

Mary's cheeks flushed as she looked away. She didn't want Chris to think he had to earn his forgiveness, she just needed to know he was serious about this.

"Mary." Chris gently lifted her chin, making her meet his eyes. "Don't feel bad about it. You're giving me more than I deserve."

"I need to know you mean it."

"I know. You're right to think of him first." Leaning in, he gently kissed her forehead. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."

Mary smiled. A little heartbroken she'd had to tell him to wait, but hopeful things would come together soon. "Thank you," she told him before kissing his cheek.

Chris returned the smile and the kiss, but not on the cheek. Once again his lips met hers, but this time, it was brief, sweet, and full of . . . love. It didn't contain the fiery passion of their last kiss, but Mary could feel the love behind the simple action, and that made it even better.

Chris moved to leave but he paused at the door, his brows furrowed as though he was deep in thought.

"Chris?" Mary asked concerned by how contemplative he now looked. "What is it?"

Chris faced her. "I just started thinkin' about somethin'."

"What?"

"I think I'm gonna go out to my place for a few days."

"Why?" Mary flushed again when she heard how panicked her tone sounded.

Chris smiled ruefully. "I've been holdin' on pretty tight to that bottle lately. I could use a little time to sort things out, too."

"I see," Mary said understanding dawning on her. Chris had been drinking heavily for several weeks now. His body would again have to become accustomed to not having a steady supply of alcohol. "When do you think you'll be back?"

"I'll need a few days, at least."

"Friday?"

"I am comin' back, Mary. I swear."

"No, that's not . . . what I meant was, if you're home and you feel up to it, you could join me and Billy for supper Saturday night."

"I'll be back for that." The smile that accompanied the answer wasn't quite a Chris Larabee smile, but it was the closest thing to one Mary had seen for a good long while. He crossed over to her again and delivered another once of those sweet, simple kisses. "And when I get back, I plan on showin' you just how serious I am about you. And Billy." He gave her another smile before walking out the door.

For a long moment, Mary stared at the door Chris had just left through. Her fingers touched her lips, and she smiled remembering the kisses Chris had left her with. She did need time, but she was thinking she wouldn't need as much as she first thought she would. She was becoming more certain by the minute that Chris had meant every word of what he'd come over to tell her. She loved Chris Larabee, and very soon he would be hers, and Mary had no intention of letting him go.

 **A/N: I'm calling this one done, for now. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed or favorited. I am planning on a sequel, but I have to get some work done on my other stories first. If you want something that will kind of show you where Chris' head is right now, go listen to the Gary Allen song _Her Man_. **


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